


Sparring is the Best Medicine

by RobotCryBaby



Series: Whirlwinds [4]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: But he has friends even if he doesn't think he does, Cyclonus and Tailgate just care about him so much, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Pre-Relationship, Sensory Overload, Sparring, Whirl has issues, established CyGate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:33:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23450257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobotCryBaby/pseuds/RobotCryBaby
Summary: I am going to continue this and develop the relationship between the three of them in later fics. This can be read as separate or part of the series. If anyone has suggestions on what the 3 of them do next I'd love to get some ideas!
Relationships: Cyclonus/Tailgate (Transformers), Cyclonus/Tailgate/Whirl (Transformers)
Series: Whirlwinds [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1574353
Comments: 1
Kudos: 51





	Sparring is the Best Medicine

Whirl was getting restless, the ship hadn’t come across any dangers or exciting adventures in a while and just visiting the shooting range wasn’t enough anymore. His processor felt full of static, feeling trapped in his own mind and being far too aware of his surroundings simultaneously. Nothing was stimulating or interesting but each time he sat down to do something about it he felt as if he were drowning. Overwhelmed and underwhelmed. 

Usually a little pain would help him recentre, but Rung had made him promise to not hurt or endanger himself since his latest incident at Swerve’s bar. He wasn’t usually one to make such promises, but Whirl was genuinely trying to be better and the nerd was growing on him in a weird way. Just the thought of seeing Rung’s disappointed face if he was called back into Medbay by Ratchet, well, he’d rather feed himself to his daughter or get thrown back in prison for a few decades.

He sat on a stool at Swerve’s bar, his claw tapping against the counter in irritation. The bar was busy, busier than usual it seemed. Ever since Whirl got his face ripped off and became a “demonic robotic crab” (as some referred to him) his audio receptors have never been the same. It’s not the loudness that got to him, he fought in the war and had endured enough explosions near his helm to not be too bothered by the volume of things. No, it was busy, which means the sounds were complex. Too much for Whirl to pick out but he could still hear each sound as clear as day. It was a painful symphony of chaos to Whirl’s audials.

His claw continued to tap loudly on the counter, each impact causing his untouched glass of Engex to ripple. He had ordered it as soon as he got there but quickly realized he didn’t have the energy to consume it. He didn’t exactly have a standard way of eating or drinking; refueling has always been a chore, with the mechanics of his intake being positioned where they are, needing a straw coupled with a small amount of dexterity to maneuver the glass properly just often wasn’t worth the effort.

But his frame burned with a need to do something, to move. His claw had already left a sizable dent in the counter before Swerve came over to stop him.

“Hey! Whirl, watch what you’re doing! I’m cutting you off.” Swerve huffed as he snatched the full glass from in front of him, obviously not remembering that Whirl had only ordered the one.

Whirl’s optic narrowed dangerously. Swerve was looking at him with blatant frustration on his features.  _ Because that’s what he was right? A nuisance. A problem. A drunk with anger issues. _ Whirl could feel the anger filling him.

The noise in the bar was deafening. Whirl stood abruptly, sending the stool cascading to the floor. His optic danced around the room, unable to focus on anything. Everything seemed far away but he was suffocating in the closeness.

He was venting heavily, frame shaking slightly. He needed to leave, he needed to feel something. He tried to leave but stumbled on the fallen stool. He swiftly bent down, grabbed it and hurled it blindly across the room, sending it crashing into the back of Skids, who turned around in shock.

The bar was quieter, but that was worse. Silence was ringing in his helm as if a flash grenade had just exploded in his face. He was beginning to panic, he spun around quickly and his claw made painful contact with the mech beside him.

_ Cyclonus. When did he get here? _

Before Whirl could even react to the sudden appearance of his  ~~friend enemy~~ friendenemy, Cyclonus had already grabbed Whirl by the shoulder, a sturdy hand leading him out of the bar.

  
  


The cool air of the empty corridor outside of Swerve’s washed over him, his overworked processor calming slightly. He vented heavily, processor still trying to catch up. It took him longer than he’d ever care to admit before he realized that he was still being led by the purple mech through the ship. Obviously, Cyclonus was leading him somewhere in particular.

Whirl tumbled into the back of Cyclonus, not realizing the mech had stopped. Whirl shook himself and glanced around him. Cyclonus had led him to one of the sparring rooms on the ship. Whirl didn’t even get a chance to ask what was going on before Cyclonus’ fist collided with his helm. It wasn’t a hard hit, Cyclonus was definitely holding back, but it still made Whirl stumble back slightly. 

He saw Tailgate take a step towards the two larger mechs, but Cyclonus calmly waved him off.

Whirl stared at him with a wide-confused optic as he watched Cyclonus get into a defensive stance. Without another thought, Whirl lept towards his new opponent and began trading blows. Sometimes Cyclonus would get the upper hand only for Whirl to use his strange anatomy to his advantage and twist out of the pin and flip Cyclonus onto his back.

With each maneuver Whirl felt his processor untangle. He knew how to fight, he’d been fighting his whole life that now it almost felt like home. He felt the rage and irritation before leave him entirely. Now he could see around him, feel and recognize his surroundings. The tunneled version of his thoughts were now open and lighter.

Whirl pounced on Cyclonus only for the mech to side-step him and trip him playfully. Whirl cackled.

“You cheeky bastard!” Whirl’s optic was bright and curled up slightly. Cyclonus knew he was enjoying himself.

The sparring continued until both mechs were hunched over in exhaustion. Whirl lay sprawled out on the floor venting heavily. “Man, for an old mech like you, you really can fight.” 

Cyclonus let out an amused huff, which was the closest the ex-Decepticon ever got to laughing.

“Wow! You guys are amazing!” Tailgate was looking at the both of them in awe, visor sparkling.

“Your pal Whirly never disappoints in a fight!” Whirl stood up and bowed in exaggeration, causing Tailgate to giggle softly. Whirl felt his frame heat slightly at the sound, which he promptly ignored.

“So, any reason why you dragged me all the way over here just to get your aft kicked, Cyc?” 

Cyclonus huffed as he straightened up, shooting him a soft glare. “Hardly, just be relieved I was holding back. I’ll be generous and consider it a tie to sooth your ego.”

Whirl stared in shock at the stoic mech then snorted loudly before devolving into laughing that wracked his frame.

“Oh, Cyclonus.” Whirl pretended to wipe tears from his optic. “Who knew the master of brooding could be so sassy!”

Tailgate walked over to the pair, beaming. “Are you feeling a little better?” 

“Me?” Whirl asked confused, to which Tailgate only nodded. “Uh, yeah. I guess.”  _ Weird. Why would he ask that? _

“If you are ever in need of a distraction or are want of something to do, the invitation to spare with me is always available.” Cyclonus laid a gentle hand on Whirl’s shoulder, causing Whirl’s spark to contract slightly.

Whirl was never one for casual physical contact. Most mechs went out of their way to avoid it when Whirl was around. Whirl had no qualms about slinging himself on others to get a rise out of them, but this wasn’t like that. Cyclonus also didn’t do causal contact, or contact at all really, outside of fighting.

Whirl searched the optics of the two mechs searching for any sort of hidden agenda to trick but found only genuine concern and content.

This was getting too weird for Whirl now, he had to remove himself. Gently, he removed Cyclonus’ servo from his shoulder and backed away. “Well it was fun hangin’ out with you guys but now I got stuff to do, so…” He stopped halfway through the door and turned back.

Tailgate and Cyclonus were watching him with soft expressions, they weren’t upset at him for leaving suddenly or his behaviour. He vented a sigh before averting his gaze.

He mumbled, “Thanks,” and heard the small, excited gasp Tailgate let out before he made his exit.

**Author's Note:**

> I am going to continue this and develop the relationship between the three of them in later fics. This can be read as separate or part of the series. If anyone has suggestions on what the 3 of them do next I'd love to get some ideas!


End file.
